Albert Camus once said, “The purpose of a writer is to keep civilization from destroying itself.” Flannery O’Conner said, “I write to discover what I know.” Authors across time and distance have had many reasons to write. Why do you write what you write?
Urf. I have an answer, but I think it’s a bit of a downer.
I write because I want to escape.
I want others to read it because I want to help them escape (and, of course, stroke my ego, which helps with the whole escaping my current life problems thing).
Writing is a lovely vacation from reality, but I don’t have to worry about missing a flight or dealing with a jerk while waiting for my turn at activity X or whatever.
Not writing is more like the 9-5 job you hate, has shitty benefits, a dick for a boss and no chance of advancement, but can’t quit because there are these nasty little things called “Responsibilities” that must be fulfilled otherwise the Bank of Life forecloses on you and you end up on the streets.
Unfortunately, not writing seems to be my things right now. Which is irritating.
There really isn’t much more to it than that.
I suppose I could expound more to increase my word count, (I think IWSG postings are something on the order of minimum 150 words required or somesuch)
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